April's Birthday Anthology
by RowanMoon
Summary: A collection of one shots centering around mythology for our one and only Gasaway Alley on her birthday. From the ladies of the Double Wide. We love you April! Happy Birthday!
1. Chapter 1

**Mt. Saint Hellena Highschool**

**  
by goldenmeadow and Viola Cornuta**

**for Gasaway Alley on your birthday with all our love, admiration, and a dose of total awe for your dirty, devious, and deliciously spirited personality (a little kiss on the ****Waffle House**** flapjack too)!**

**  
Wee note, some bits on Pan's ability and how he sees inter-relationships were influenced by blondie aka robin's ****Dark Side of the Moon****.**

**~First~**

**Cybele**

Her older brother gained the beauty in the family. At least that was what she heard everyone say. It was as if there was only enough goodness between the two of them to add up to one complete person. Both of them were doomed, he to his life of success without love, her to death at _his _hand, at which time she would return to the land of Dindymene to lay her breast down on the sacred soil of Mt. Dindymon. She wouldn't have had it any other way. She'd had her night of delights, she'd had her Pan.

**Narcissus**

As if it wasn't bad enough the lethally built and highly esteemed youth was saddled with a fuckin' faggoty name, he also had to bear the shame of his crunchy, Birkenstock-wearing sister. However, she'd looked quite pretty when she died. For once, she was a credit to him.

**Pan**

A music major, a band-geek, his outward claim to masculinity was the need to shave daily before he was twelve...it must have been the Italian blood coursing through his veins. Of average height, bow-legged and never an intramural sportsperson, he spent his weekday afternoons setting up the music room chairs to the teacher's specifications for the extracurriculars. Concert band, pep band, jazz band, dance band, rock band. _Funeral march_. The long dark-haired boy with his eerie black-brown eyes had, hidden inside, the ability to love with all the excruciating detail he employed when he made music, as well as a direct link to the relationships between other people, like lines of color radiating, prism-like, between lovers, friends, family. Was that fortune, he wondered, or hereditary insanity?

**~Flirtation~**

**Cybele**

Her long winding locks of onyx swept past her shoulders as she ran to catch the public school system's bus. Although she'd never admit it, Cybele quite enjoyed inciting Narcissus' ire by doing things she knew he'd be ashamed of. 

It was with complete certainty she understood he would despise the blooming flirtation between her and Pan, the drum major of the high school marching band.

Possessing an inordinate, and unlikely, deep and endless well of happiness, Cybele was not only unknowingly beautiful, she was also a very quiet, very unassuming leader. As such, she posed a threat to ambitious Narcissus. Naive, innocent Cybele took no heed of the various boys from all strata of high school society clambering over themselves to get a seat near her in class, to stand behind her in line at the cafeteria (in the main they wanted to ogle her plush ass, though a few had more gallant intentions), to glom onto her as she sat in the bleachers each autumn with her Styrofoam cup of hot cocoa, watching the football rivalries.

Her followers were many. Mainly because she was ignorant of her magnetism. Her allure was not only of untouched, divine flesh, but also unrealized charm and personality. 

Always scheming, Narcissus noticed and took it upon himself to insult, disparage and disgrace his younger sister every chance he got so she would never comprehend the power she held in her tiny, mighty hand.

At one such football game, the season's last, she listened to the band with its clashing cymbals, booming drums, strumpeting trumpets and stamping feet, and her eyes wouldn't leave the boy who choreographed each clash, boom, blare, and stomp.

The intensity with which she stared at him caused the fine jet hairs at the nape of his neck to stand at attention and point in her direction.

His shoulders large beneath the gold epaulets of his attire, his chin square, refined and lovely, his eyes wide and open and interesting, he turned towards her and, when the troupe soldiered off the field, he raised his baton to Cybele.

**Pan**

Quite an admirable young man, he doted on his mother, was sympathetic to his peers but had a hard angry streak when faced with injustice or disorder. Only the demise of his beloved could turn him from the open-hearted instrumentalist into a zombie-like monster with a vacant stare.**  
**

**  
**Each Monday through Thursday, the first semester of their junior year, Pan met Cybele as she left the art wing at school. At first it was a happy coincidence, simply his schedule and hers in synchronization. By October it was the highlight of their days. Shy shared smiles grew to full-throated laughter down the unchanging, echoing hallways of 21st century public education as though they strolled the fields of Arcadia. Their path was arced over by booster club posters and pep chants stapled to crumbling bulletin boards instead of the waving, fragrant flora of immortality.

He carried his trombone case from that afternoon's practice, she shouldered her camera bag. Six weeks of walks to the stop for the late activities' bus, when everything was perfect for fifteen minutes before he saw her off with a smile and a wave. Friday afternoons held no practice sessions, as there was most often an evening game where the band played. 

**  
**Little did virgin Cybele know, she of the long dark hair, huge dark eyes and never-ending curves -- such a daughter of the Mediterranean -- Pan played with more than just his trombone, when at home, alone, and wanting only her.

With an ability he mostly ignored, Pan quietly scrutinized _Narcisuck's _overbearing attentions to his Rubenesque sister. It was with equal parts horror and disquiet that he began to understand the troubling bent of the advantaged, aberrant mind. It typically got pretty ugly between them at after-school events, where Narcissus felt most exposed. He loved the spotlight, but only on his own terms. Command performances, and he _was_ the high school high command, bored the balls off him. An emptied flask stashed in his glove compartment, his lungs warmed by weed, well-fueled Narcissus cut a swath, cut a figure, cut a _sister_ to the quick.

Pan could recognize Narcissus' eponymous personality disorder, but as a teen himself, there was little he could do to correct it. So he straightened his shoulders, looked beyond her brother's crazy and straight into Cybele's eyes. Suddenly, asking her for a date was astonishingly simple. With the game over, he changed out of the regulation band uniform into his requisite teen uniform, and met his girl at the entrance to the field house. And he made plans to pick her up at her home the following evening.

**Narcissus **

Narcissus was fastidious in his appearance. In fact, were he of another era, one might even refer to him as a dandy or a fop. He prided himself on his facade, and all but ignored the pressing psychotic tendencies that made him not only a most charismatic Student Body President, but the neighborhood boy who used to torture puppies, kittens and frogs. Raised with the proverbial spoon in his mouth, he was indulged in every arena by his parents, as well as in the realm of dark bodily delights by his own hand at the neck of one woman or another. No juvenile girls for him, he proposed sexual trysts to the college women at the University of Olympia**. **They knew not to ask for his phone number or to expect his presence in their single, dormitory beds by morning's creeping light. More often than not, they were glad he'd slunk off in the thin, skeletal hours of pre-dawn. Roughly arousing, exigently exciting, _pounding, pounding, pounding,_ the tall, elegant, learned almost-man gave no apologies for the frightful orgasms he rendered. But not before several hours of lingering, near-painful, foreplay.

Though allotted the same resources, the older brother and younger sister shared little more than last name. Whereas he took and took and took, she gave and gave and gave. 

Unto her dying breath.

So, it went without elucidation Narcissus was well-versed in the midnight-side of sensual, sadistic pleasures.

The eighteen-year-old boy took exception to the nerdy band fucker checking his sister out; he had only his own deviant desires to guide him. How did he know what the hairy, Greek-looking geek-boy was planning? More importantly, if Cybele was finally going to acknowledge she had tits and a pussy, she should at least hook up with someone whose standing would elevate the family name, not bring it down to common muck.

**~Foundling Love~**

Cybele

She wondered if she should purchase some type of feminine lubrication system, on the off chance Pan thought about having sex with her. He was so handy with his instrument, she could only imagine the unearthly delights to be found beneath his fingers as they glided along the stops and strings of her body. _Hmmm, strings._ That was another thing. Body hair.

She wanted to make herself bare, clean.

Like Mother Nature, she'd nurtured her family and friends without a care or thought to herself.

_Until Pan._

The innocent girl-woman imagined she should clean herself up. Little did she know about using shaving foam, new razors, or after-care once she'd denuded her girl parts of the African Queen look. 

Was it worth it? 

Sheltered, happily, Cybele was of another time. 

But she wanted to be pretty for her Pan-man. 

Her singer, her jester, her soon-to-be-lover. 

So it was with frowning intent she went to the drugstore and stocked up on foreign items like Allergenic Ultra-sensitive Shave Foam, Bikini Razors, Sally Hansen Wax Strips, and Bikini Care Gel-Cream. 

At home she sighed, in her gigantic bathroom, the vanity lights (every other one of the twelve illuminating her mirror was unscrewed to give respite to the world's finite resources) glaring at all the foil, razors, and unguents. 

Brushing her hair to a high gleam, Cybele made a neat bun and stepped into the shower to rid herself of all but a soft patch of flat hair over her undiscovered lips. 

But there was more to be uncovered than just her labia. 

There was the slippery substantive substance of lubrication.

What to do about it? On goggling for lube, she found oodles of information that boggled her mind. What was worse was Amazon, where you could purchase items _New_ and _Used._ Used? Used lube? Being all about saving the Earth, hugging the trees, recycling everything from cans and bottles (of Kombucha Tea, naturally), she even had a menstrual cup instead of tampons and pads. But really, pre-owned lubricant? Not even Cybele was going to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

In the end she had to trust her body would plenish the deep channel, should Pan desire her in that manner.

**Pan**

His ablutions were complete in ten minutes, more or less.

Guided by a hand that had known the same task for a few years, he'd scraped his jaw and cheeks and ropey throat clean of bristly stubble, showered and washed his shoulder-length black hair, scrubbed his cock and nuts and even found time for a quick wank, all to the thoughts of Cybele.

Because she was glorious, heavenly, sensual, earthy.

When he knocked on her door, it opened to a palatial manor by none other than weasel-faced Narcissus. Sneering.

Instead of entering the devil's den, Pan waited on the huge porch, scattered with wicker lounges and one wide wooden swing. All in white and far too bright. 

Not as bright as the love of his life as she crossed the invisible barrier... _from brother to lover._

The evening didn't quite go as planned.

Pan's ancient piss-yellow Pinto backfired, smoked, and stalled.

Its engine churned and died.

The tow truck driver was crude yet pleasant, a standard personality trait in rural areas.

Left off at the restaurant in town, their reservations had been lost. 

They fidgeted, waited, smiled askance at each and made small talk while their hands brushed, and they both wished they were of legal age so they could order a round, or two or three.

Cybele used the restroom, Pan asked about their table again.

The food was lackluster, both brittle and rubbery.

They choked through conversation, the sweat on their palms like that on the condensing plastic glasses of Coke.

For a moment, Cybele straightened, then bent, like a willow, in Pan's direction. Her hand shook but fell to his firm, muscled thigh nonetheless.

And really, that caress was all it took. 

Pan became a man and paid the bill in cash.

Cybele knew herself to be a woman, and she stood with her hip under Pan's tutelage.

At his house, less a palace, more an artisan's cottage, they kissed in grace.

Penelope, his mother, was having a revel on the patio and paid them no mind as they worked their way up to his bedroom, finding footsteps on oak in the gloom. 

It was quite the little miracle, but they didn't tear cloth, or titter at naked skin. They may have blushed, a bit.

It was a fact they licked, sucked, bit, and moaned. Nude and dutiful, they touched with fingers and tongue, over and inside, sliding, groaning... _wanting._

Pan's buttocks were a glorious thing, mounds of hard tissue Cybele gripped and stroked. 

Cybele's breasts were low, heavy, and tipped by elongated camellia colored nipples that Pan nibbled until his lips were raw and ruddy. 

Unbelievably, for these two, there was no awkwardness (except when the condom got stuck halfway down Pan's cock. Then Cybele cursed herself for her ignored foresight. An ingenious girl, she spat in her hands and laved Pan's erection -- the bold, thick length of him throbbing inside her doubled-over fists -- with her saliva. Slick now, wet, the condom rolled over his membranes with ease).

A hint of pain, a push of muscle, a shift of pelvis, a caterwaul of coming together and his hands framed her face and..._they fell in love._

It was, actually, sublime for a fresh first time between new lovers. 

As he sank into her slowly, his shoulders so mighty, his chest strong and strained against her ripe, rigid nipples, she felt him inside. The ache of ages was made whole, and she could say this to him while his stunned mouth opened in a silent howl of pleasure, "I love you." 

With craving, he carved into her, quite a bit harder and faster, his wet, weighty cock loving the tight recess of her flesh, and his heart understanding, his voice rumbling and husky, "I love you, Cybele." 

A crash of gangly adolescent limbs made to bear the purity of husband and wife found the two tangled in delight. Their orgasms took them to flight, as if on wings and blinded by closeness to the sun's glowing hot rays. 

In the end, their breath caught, hitched, released. Their bodies arched a few more times together. Their smiles were wide and dimpled and moist and swollen under lips that continued to pluck, to arouse. 

_In the end_, Pan and Cybele rolled around the damp bedsheets and laughed and laughed and fucked some more.

**~Fight~**

The rumors of Hellena High were a cache of catcalls and criticisms.

The most terrible, to Narcissus (he was usually undisturbed by gossip -- the tales he didn't star in, he ignored), was the scrawl on the mint green stall of the men's room intimating Cybele had had sex with Pan, and was good for a free ride. 

When Narcissus had face-planted Pan's head to the drab, shuttered locker, he was thinking only one thing -- _No one, NO ONE, should get his hands on Cybele. If word got out she was open for business, his reputation would be slaughtered. At the very least, she shouldn't lower herself to beatnik bug-eyed buggers._

He didn't foresee the consequences of his vain actions. Even if he had, he wouldn't have cared very much. He was a bit of a hothead. 

His existence was limited to sweat-ridden locker rooms, jostling jocks, and his own countenance. That he was culpable of mighty transgressions was a fact, although none of his peers had ever seen the exact measure of his repugnance. Just yet. 

There was Persephone twirling closer to the catastrophe. He wanted to hit that hot little, cold little, glee club gamine, and not with a megaphone. The blond bringer of pain was a dead ringer for the goddess of the underworld. He'd heard she could cut the character of any upperclassman with the sibilant slice of her tongue... _on MySpace, Facebook, and Twitter_. Nice. 

And her twin Hermes; they had different mothers and the same face, _whatthefuckever_, _he _was way too friggin' dapper to _not _be playing for the hometeam with his scarves and man-bags and leathers. 

In reality, it didn't matter what or who Narcissus daydreamed about as he inspected his chin and cheeks and brow for erupting zits in Cyb's magnetic mirror while he waited for his sis or her beau to make an appearance. The combination to her little haven was so fuckin' trite it was funny. 'ILUVPAN'. 

She'd even made a lipstick heart around the cut-out if _his _face from the yearbook's _Most Likely to Suck Ass_ page. 

Sickening. 

Revolted, Narcissus smashed the swain's forehead to the levered ventilation bars of Cybele's narrow locker. 

His nose bleeding in red fountainous gushes, Pan was suddenly combative! Pan caused pandemonium. The phalanx of phyrgian pre-pubescents crowded closer and crowed, not for Narcissus, _no_. They were panicked and pulling for the underdog. _Pan... panikon peima._ Inciting a mob mentality when he took the force of his fear and all the scary insight into Narcisuck's emotional debilitation into his clenched fists, Pan swung and made contact with a satisfying _thud-slap-pound_ to Narcissus' jaw. 

The horde roared its approval. 

Narcissus floundered back and lost his footing for he'd never been at the bottom of the heap before. 

Cybele heard a commotion in the green and pink 1980's tiled hallway. The scent of iron blood mingled with Lysol. As if she were following the red and blue and white flashing lights of an ambulance, she ran to the siren-call of her lover and her brother beating the ever-loving bloody shit out of each other until both their faces, formerly handsome for different reasons, were pulpy red and pukish green. Turning steadily blue and purple. 

Narcissus didn't even see Cybele. It was amazing he could, sometimes, even see beyond his own aquiline nose. 

He would never have predicted Cybele's interception, though he was a wide receiver used to such feint and tackle tactics. 

Pan did catch sight of Cybele's savage features. And he opened his beautiful mouth -- those lips that had been more than agreeable against her breasts and between her thighs and sighing hard and biting lightly into her neck and at the top of her derriere -- to shout, like his trombone's deep call, "STOP!" 

But his sound was deafened by her rush and Narcissus' punch. 

A cry went up, rising from a mumble to a ululation, "_Thamus Panmegus Tethneke!" The Great Pan is dead! _

But it wasn't he. It was she. 

And though Pan still breathed, achingly, retching over Cybele's supine body, discerning her halo illuminating more glowingly while the silken cerulean vine that wrapped between them tightened and the crimson ribbon from her to Narcissus unraveled, he was certain his heart shriveled like a bloodsucker taken from wetness to sun, and covered in salt until its flesh fried. 

Little did the formerly jocular, jousting, jeering athlete know, as he punched in that squashy nose, it was not the trumpeter and troubadour, but his own sister, the tree hugger. 

A stomach-turning thud splintered the recessed hall, and all the hubbub halted. 

No one really knew her but Pan, that small but well-formed hippie girl whose body flopped like a flayed, gutted, scaled fish to the shiny floor the janitor had just polished. 

Once, twice, she flipped over onto Converse and other fashionable shoes. The foam from her mouth like an excellent tribute to Botticelli's Venus and the spray of ocean upon her scallop shell. 

Her spine was busted. 

Cybele watched vaguely, from afar, kind of floating like a zephyr…maybe even an angel. 

Her Pan cried and beat and bled and broke. 

Broke down. 

Right next to her. 

It was fortunate, she thought, that in her meager sixteen years, she'd understood timelessness. Impudence and love, sensuality and body. 

_Pleasures._

Even if it was just for one night. 

She wanted to hold her musical, madrigal, magical lover; she desired to console him, but her arms wouldn't move. 

Some boy named Apollo hovered over her and braced her neck, his shiny cinnamon head bowed as his mate and mistress and friend Aphrodite shivered at his shoulder and called 911. They too would have loved her, if they'd had the chance. 

It was, all told, quite amusing to acquire this attention, to finally acknowledge her own appeal, while she died, Cybele thought. 

Her loose long skirt had been raised too far up her thighs, and she wanted to _push it back down._ Narcissus stood near, Pan wept, Persephone attended; Cybele was paralyzed, immortalized in death with a smile on her lips. 

Understanding the final plea in her eyes, Pan ran his hands over the ruffles and situated that dress properly before he tenderly kissed the last breath from his woman's lips. 

Her pulse limped. It shuddered and froze. 

Corrupt, craven, Narcissus would own the school and find success in all his undertakings. Now that his guileless sister was eating dirt. 

She rose above, flight aloft on ivory soft wings. 

She watched. 

Not Narcissus, not greed, spite and arrogance. 

But Pan: love, music, and happenstance... _happiness_.

**~Found~**

At first, Cybele mourned her fallen vanguard, even though she was the one soaring about Heaven's hinterlands.

__

She had every reason to grieve. Her boy went bad on them all. Fall thrust into winter and winter staggered into spring. Pan retreated into the countryside, out of their small city, only emerging from his stolid sulks to fornicate with every nympho in every scattered rural outpost he could find. Some were girls his high school friends had heard of, Echo, Selene and Syrinx all had local connections and reputations to protect. He didn't care. Cybele watched at a distance and cared deeply.

More sensitive than his customary hook-ups, Syrinx gave him a flute, hoping to coax the boy she'd once met at an inter-mural music festival out of his shell. It wasn't his preferred instrument, but it slowly piped him up from his pandemonic depression. The sounds were softer than his trombone, and he heard Cybele in them when he played out of doors. 

He taught himself to handle the woodwind delicately, as he had handled Cybele. He wasn't surprised to see her before him, just convinced the steady stream of alcohol in his system had finally destroyed his brain.

Through the company of nymphs he finally, astutely, pressed aside, with gentlemanly tendencies, Pan followed the song and Cybele's strong, soft, prescient voice:

_"I'm here, Pan. I've never left. Play for me, and I'll never leave."_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - No birthday would be complete without Togaward and Jasper in a diaper. Itchy bollocks and tent poles ahoy! Happy Birthday April!**

**Cupid, Eros & Aphrodite**

**by **

**TwifanUK**

Standing in front of my full length mirror, I inspected the image staring back at me. Clad in a white sheet and nothing more I was careful to tuck away the goods. For some unknown reason – probably mental instability – I had agreed to accompany Jasper to a Greek themed soirée at the Delta Gamma sorority house.

I was only serving as his '_wing man_' in his attempt to bone Alice Brandon, but I had a fancy costume and I intended to have a damn good time wearing it. There was no way on this planet I was going to spend six hours hemming it in intricate gold thread, for it to go to waste.

Fastening a gold belt around my waist, I turned around to admire the costume in full. I had to admit, the toga hugged my best assets perfectly and my ass looked pretty damn good. Looking down at my feet, I wiggled my toes in the gold sandals and thanked every Greek god I could recall for the pedicure I had booked earlier in the week.

"Dude, you ready?" Jasper asked, walking into my room – uninvited – dabbing gold glitter on his chest.

His curly blonde hair was set perfectly and had me wondering if he'd gotten a perm specially for the party. His face was glowing with bright rosy cheeks. It was a shame he'd chosen blue eye shadow though; it really didn't work well with his skin tone. Glancing downwards I was met with a diaper fashioned out of a sheet leading a pair of spindly and bowed legs. Which were also conspicuously hairless...

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" I asked, rather worried what his answer was going to be.

"Er, duh! Can't you guess?" he replied, twirling on the spot and showing off a pair of ridiculously small wings stuck to his back.

_At least mine were manly, full sized ones. _

"Yeah, I'm all out," I sighed, returning my attention to the mirror and ensuring my hair had that perfect_ 'just fell out of bed and can't be bothered'_ look.

"I'm Cupid!" He announced proudly, showing his toy bow and arrow which he'd meticulously sprayed gold. He'd even attached little hearts to the end of his arrows.

Turing back around I gave him a final appraisal. "Cupid wasn't Greek."

"Ofcourse he was!" Jasper protested, tugging on his diaper and adjusting himself. I prayed it was securely fastened. Nobody needed to be exposed to an impromptu appearance of '_Little Cupid_' tonight.

"No, he wasn't," I insisted, skilfully positioning my, custom made, wings on my back.

"Oh, really? Well who the hell are you supposed to be then?"

"Eros," I replied, not looking at him as I ensured each feather was perfectly placed to frame and accentuate my rear-end. "The Greek God of love."

"No, that was Cupid!" he insisted, standing with his hands on his hips, seconds away from stamping his foot and throwing a hissy fit. "Do you see '_Eros'_ on Valentines cards? No. It's Cupid!"

"I think you'll find you're wrong Jasper. Eros was the Greek God of love. Cupid was his childish Roman counterpart."

I was the real love God with Jasper a mere sidekick. A mythological '_Batman and Robin_' if you will.

"Whatever," he huffed, obviously put out that I had a far superior costume. It wasn't my fault he'd decided to dress up as an over-grown toddler who'd raided his mother's make-up.

Checking myself once more in the mirror, I decided it was time to leave. After all, perfection couldn't be improved upon.

The party was in full swing by the time we'd arrived. The drive had taken longer than expected. In my careful planning of the night's attire, I'd failed to take into account the span of my wings and the logistics involved when it came to wearing them whilst driving.

The house was full of people sporting various costumes – many of which were obviously not Greek. Looking around, I basked in the notion I was clearly the best dressed.

_Since when was the 'Caesar' Greek?_

Grabbing Jasper by his arrow, I towed him towards the finely laid out bar. Every beverage known to man seemed to be on display as I helped myself to a large whiskey. Beer was for the minions. Only the finest single malt was good enough to tickle _my_ taste-buds. As I savoured the smoky flavour, I was interrupted by Jasper fidgeting next to me.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked as his hand plundered his diaper once more. "Is it the new fabric conditioner I bought? It's non-biological and claims to be gentle on sensitive skin..."

"No..." he whined, turning towards me slightly and scratching like a dog with fleas.

_Fleas? Dear God no! _

I panicked.

"Do you have crabs?" I asked, slightly louder than intended. "Oh my God! We share towels!"

I could feel the panic rising as a bead of sweat trickled down my back, tarnishing my costume. Patting my forehead, I dabbed the light layer of moisture away. The last thing I needed was for my foundation to run. It took a lot of work to look this bronzed and hide my freckles.

"No!" he hissed.

"Then why the fuck are you scratching like a dirty old tom cat?"

"I...shaved," he whispered close to my ear.

"Yeah, I know that. You're legs are looking very smoo... _oh_..." I began as realisation dawned on me.

There was only one razor in our house sharp enough for such a delicate task – and it didn't belong to Jasper. His were always clogged with crap and rusty. How he's never removed his chin in the morning was beyond me.

_Note to self: Throw away all razors and accessories at the first opportunity._

"Well I started on my legs but it just looked strange. I couldn't have smooth legs and then a hairy ball sack," he explained as I scanned the room, looking for an excuse to escape his company. '_Itchy Scratchy_' was now officially on his own.

My eyes caught the sight of a young woman standing on her own on the opposite side of the room. Looking down at her drink, she looked like she could do with some company. Company I was more than willing to provide.

Knocking back my drink and straightening my wings, I sauntered towards her, confidence seeping out of every pore.

"Nice costume. Medusa?" I asked, taking in the girls appearance.

"Excuse me?" she replied, frowning.

"Medusa," I clarified. "You know, the gorgon? The chthonic monster?"

"Er no. Why would you think that?" she asked

"Well your hair for starters. I like how you've created the tight curls to resemble snakes," I explained, tentatively reaching out to hold one of the offending spirals in front of her face. "You must have used a hell of a lot of hairspray for it to be so stiff and compacted."

Seeing the look of contempt on her face, I quickly retracted my hand through fear of it being removed from my body.

"I'm Athena," she stated, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement just served to push her breasts further out of her costume. So much so I was almost certain I spied a nipple.

"You can't be," I said, barely able to take my eyes away from her ample – and almost free - bosom.

"And why not?" She asked, placing a hand on her hip and arching her back so much her nipple came precariously close to taking one of my eyes out.

"Athena was one of the '_Three Virgin Goddesses'_ on Olympus" I replied, waving my hand in front of her body to emphasise my point.

Casting my eyes upwards I found myself wishing she was Medusa after all. Turning to stone seemed quite favourable compared to the look I was receiving. With her hands in tight fists at her side, I prepared myself for the beating of a lifetime.

"Fuck that, you're more like '_Brimo_'" I mumbled, stepping backwards in a hasty retreat. '_The Angry One_' didn't have a patch on the beast in front of me.

Once I could be sure I was out of her firing line I began my search for Jasper – the first stop being the bar. Rounding the corner towards the kitchen, I spotted a diaper with the owners ass-crack peaking out of the top. I would have known that derrière at a hundred paces – only this time it was being clawed at by some sort of nymph as he ground her into the wall.

Alice.

Turning on my heels and not wanting to bear witness to a live sex show, I made my way to a quiet corner to sit down and get thoroughly wasted. Keeping a low profile seemed like the best option. The last thing I wanted was to run into 'S_he Beast'_ again. Just the thought of what she could do to me made my balls shrivel up and my mouth go dry.

"Hi," a quiet voice said beside me as I sat stroking my wings.

The feel of the soft feathers was comforting and I had every intention of making my own decorative pillow with them later. There was an extensive embroidery kit at home just waiting for my talented digits to make use of it.

Nodding my head, I looked up to see who the voice belonged to. I was greeted with the most amazing sight of my entire life. A petite girl with big brown eyes set in a round face. She had a full bottom lip which glistened as her tongue ran nervously over it. All framed by luscious mahogany hair falling in loose curls around her shoulders.

As I stared at the heavenly being in front of me, I made a mental note to ask her what shampoo she used. It could do wonders for my hair, and I was partial to the fruity smell of strawberries anyway.

"I'm Bella," she said, holding her hand out towards me. Frozen in place, I continued to stroke my wings with more fervour. "You must be Edward...Jaspers friend?"

Taken off guard by her using my name, I was unable to respond verbally. My hand stopped it's ministrations as my fingers gripped the plumage, almost the the point of plucking.

"Sorry, I'm Alice's friend," she said, dropping her hands to her lap. I instantly felt bad about not taking her hand and making her feel awkward.

"No, I'm sorry. Yes, I'm Edward. How did you know?" I asked, turning my body to face her. My hand itched to reach out and touch her.

"Jasper said you would be the one with the pompous attitude and big wings," she laughed, before downing the rest of her drink. "They _are_ pretty spectacular."

Wiping the drops of alcohol off her chin, she stood and asked if I wanted a re-fill. Never one to turn down alcohol I concurred.

_Pompous attitude and spectacular wings? Spectacular, yes. Pompous, no. Ok, so possibly on the second count..._

My inner monologue was halted as she made her way across the room. Her hips swayed enticingly and her perfectly round and supple ass bounced slightly with each step. Unable to form of coherent thoughts, I felt all the blood leave my cerebellum and head south; another issue I had over looked when choosing my attire. Pitching a tent under a piece of white cotton was, quite possibly, the worst situation I could find myself in. It even trumped someone spilling red wine down the crisp linen.

Crossing my legs, I tried to think of anything to relieve my problem. Even the image of my parents getting it on wasn't working.

"So who have you come as tonight?" Bella asked as she returned with our drinks, her eyes travelling the length of my body and settling on my sandals.

"Eros. Yourself?" I wasn't willing to offer any suggestions this time. Once bitten, twice shy and my gut instinct was that this girl could do far more damage than '_She Beast_'. It's always the quiet ones you have to be careful of.

"Aphrodite," she replied, a small blush covering her cheeks.

_Aphrodite... Aphrodite Callipygos... Callipygos... Beautiful Buttocks... Bella Callipygos... Bella Beautiful Buttocks..._

My mind was in over drive, well not my actual mind - my mini-brain instead. Squeezing my legs together tighter I suppressed the groan that was building in my throat. In serious danger on spontaneous combustion, I pressed my palm into my groin hoping to hide the monster boner currently twitching against my abdomen, desperately trying to break free and reach it's target sitting next to me.

"Erm..th-that's cool," I stuttered, sounding like a complete retard.

_Smooth, Cullen, smooth_

"Yeah," she replied, sipping her drink and surreptitiously looking at my hand pressed firmly against my cock.

"Well, erm... it's good that we met..." I began. "Aphrodite and Eros together. You know...the perfect couple." Taking a sip of my drink I started to feel confident again but noticed a troubled look on Bella's face.

"Edward... Aphrodite was Eros' mother," she whispered in my ear, causing her breath to fan across my face.

Shaking clear the cloud of lust in my brain, and straightening my shoulders, I put all of my newly acquired research to good use. "No, according to Plato's Symposium, he was conceived by Poros and Penia at Aphrodite's birthday."

Satisfied my explanation was enough to placate her and reassure her I was, in no way into mother-loving, I smiled and took a long draw of my drink.

Staring into her eyes, I knew it was time to make my move. Placing my glass on the floor, I leaned forward slowly and brushed her hair away from her eyes. A small gasp came from her as my hand made contact with her skin for the first time. Closing her eyes, she mimicked my actions and leaned towards me, her lips in a small pout.

"Fuck it," she said, pulling back and standing abruptly. Grabbing my hand, she forcefully pulled me up and proceeded to drag me across the room. Stumbling behind her, I tried desperately to cover my dick as it stood proudly at full mast – the flimsy cotton of my toga no match for it's determination.

As I was marched through the building, Bella hurriedly checked random rooms until she was apparently satisfied. Pulling me through the doorway I was engulfed in complete darkness and didn't have a clue where I was. As the door closed behind me, I felt her small hands grab my hips and push me backwards. Colliding with a solid object I suppressed a cry of pain.

"Bella, are you sure?" I groaned, as she ground her small body against mine and her mouth attacked my neck.

"Less talking," she mumbled, gripping the front of my toga and dragging me towards the bed. Pushing firmly on my chest with her hand, I found myself falling backwards and landing in the centre of the mattress with an unceremonious thud.

Rolling to the side quickly and standing up, Bella completely missed my body as she launched herself onto the now empty bed. With a huff, she peeled her face from the comforter and _growled_ at me.

"What are you doing?"she asked, a air of annoyance clearly visible in her tone.

"I'm just taking my toga off," I replied. Carefully untying the precisely appointed knot on my shoulder, I watched as she crouched on the bed like a lioness stalking it's prey. Her eyes were firmly fixed on my groin and I was relived to have gotten away from her as quickly as I did. I was in no doubt that any delay would have resulted in my precious costume being damaged beyond repair.

"Leave the wings on," she ordered as I reached for the tie holding them to my body. Obliging, I left them securely in place and sent a silent prayer out that they would remain in one piece - along with my body.

Standing in front of me, Bella's hands roamed my chest with her delicate lips following in their wake. Pressing my cock into her abdomen , the suspense was nearly killing me. I had never been so scared, yet aroused by someone before. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins as I started to remove her toga with shaky hands. Slapping my hands away from her body, she directed me back to the bed.

Lying on my back once again I was taken completely by surprise by Bella as she hitched her toga up past her hips and impaled herself on me. The feeling of her hot, wet and completely surrounding me was the most delicious kind of torture. I could feel small spasms as she settled on my manhood and devoured me until I was balls deep.

Digging her fingernails lightly into my chest she began grinding and rotating her hips. This was most definitely only a spectator sport – and I was more than willing to buy a ticket. With every undulation of her hips I could feel myself being pushed to the edge. Not wanting to appear a 'two pump chump', I held onto her hips tighter and tried to slow down her rhythm but it just spurred her on even more.

As she continued to ride me like the last bull at the rodeo, I could hear the unmistakable sound of plumage cracking and snapping. Fearing the worst for my feathered friends, I knew it was time to take charge. Sadly my subconscious – or more accurately my hormones, had other ideas.

_Cullen you chump! You've got a hot chick in a toga using your dick as some sort of pussy-pogo-stick and all you're worried about is your wings?!_

"I'm nearly there," Bella gasped as she increased her effort, leaning back and using my thighs as support. I could feel the muscles in my abdomen getting tighter as I felt my impending orgasm grow.

The grunts and sounds of sweaty skin slapping together was drowned out by a high pitched wail that I could only compare to a banshee. As Bella contracted and seized all around me I was sent spiralling into the hardest orgasm of my life with her hand firmly gripping my nut sack.

Completely spent, she collapsed on my body; her wet hair falling around my neck and surrounding me with the sweet scent of strawberries. Extricating herself from my body she settled beside me with her head resting on my chest.

"Thank you," she mumbled before falling into a deep sleep – and snoring.

The bright sun shone through the window as I opened my eyes. Seeing my toga folded neatly on a chair and remembering the events of the previous night, a smile spread across my face. Rolling over to greet my newest bed-mate I was confronted by an empty space. The only evidence of her ever being there was the silhouette of her body made up of gold glitter.

Running my hands through my hair, I crawled out of bed. As I got dressed and looked around the room, a horrifying and disturbing realisation dawned on me.

_The bitch stole my wings!_


	3. Chapter 3

**For Gasaway Alley. Happy Birthday Apie Baby!**

**Persie Parties on The Darkside**

**By **

**winterstale and Viola Cornuta**

"Well, you're going to have to speak with her." 

"Me?! Why me? These are mother things, Demi. I pay for the school, the clothes, and -" 

"Zeus, it's Hades." 

"The hell you say?" The supreme God of the Mount Olympus Peninsula sputtered. "Hang on, Dem." Muffled feminine giggles and the distinct thwack of palm on flesh, followed by another chorus of tittering laughter mocked Demeter, a woman who, with age, finally had the good sense to keep the burly deity and his 'lightning bolt' at bay, even as an occasional parental conference proved necessary. "Are you telling me my baby girl was dragged off by that emo-acting goth boy?" 

"The one and only. Leather-clad man-candy, man-whore from the top of his sleek black head to the bottom of his cold black heart, chatted up _our_ _child_ while she was on a field trip with Athena and Artemis and the rest of her classmates. Next thing I knew I was getting texts from her at work telling me she'd dropped out of school and would be home later. _Later_, Z! Do you have any idea what that did to me? There I was, in conference with the sons of Celeus - you remember meeting Demophon and Triptolemus - on the latest agricultural projections in Eleusis, and I get that kind of text from Persephone. The pain was indescribable. My entire body was on fire. I had no idea anyone could ever have that kind of power over me." 

"Whoa, back up. _Demophon?_ Your so-called assistant, the boy-toy you plan to make a god?" Zeus chuckled flirtatiously as images of the long-limbed, flaxen-haired goddess at work filled his mind. An all-too familiar tightening began in his stomach, coursing lower with appreciating intensity. The Cloud Gatherer stood up carefully, stretching, and thanked himself for togas, size 3x tall. "Do you still do it by coating and anointing your amour du jour with ambrosia, breathing gently upon him while holding him in your arms and bosom, and making him immortal by burning his mortal spirit away in the family hearth? Ummm, Demi... we've been apart for years, but that is a bedroom trick I'll never get tired of watching." Zeus dropped his voice seductively, implying more than a wish for observation. Demeter rolled her eyes _again_ and fought the urge to plant something heavy alongside her babydaddy's thick skull. 

"So... we are speaking of beautiful young men and the gift of immortality, are we? You are such a damnable hypocrite. One word, Zeus: _Ganymede_. But enough of this, it's Persephone who is giving me fits, and she needs her father. Of all the Olympios family she is the one without a stable position amongst the other gods. Don't you think the number of stepsibs and illegits you keep fathering might have something to do with her running off with this Underworld thug?" 

"Probably the fact she's the only child of a working mother might have more to do with her desire to experience a bit of fun," Zeus snorted. Demeter was certain she heard the sounds of SportsCenter echoing through his marble chamber.  
_  
_

_Why didn't I listen to my mother? I could have been married to The Time Share King of Smyrna but no... I had to go for dimples, dark curls and a nice set of abs... and the lightning_. _Biggest bolt I'd ever seen..._

"You have kept her isolated for too long, Demeter. It's time for your little girl to grow up. She's just chosen an inappropriate way to get started."  
_  
_

_Eyeroll #4,768... Play with lightning, let the toga snake out and what do I get? A rebellious teengirl and I have to deal with his damn ADHD forever..._

Demeter put down the phone on speaker and bowed her head, breathing in through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. Throwing her flaxen hair over her shoulder, she swiftly uncorked a bottle of red, poured a glass and drained it. "Okay Z, let's focus here. _Our _daughter went missing for weeks. I looked for her all over, closing my business down, stopping all activity in agricultural production for as long as it took. If it weren't for that Nosy Parker, Helios, I might never have found her." 

"He does love to stick it where the sun don't shine! Babe, I'm glad he was able to help this time. What did you learn?" 

"According to Helios, Persie is seen regularly at The Darkside, a club owned by Hades. How he got that venture bankrolled, I'll never know. Connections somewhere, I know he has a profitable sideline in an antioxidant snack based on pomegranate seeds; that's one benefit of being Goddess of the Earth, I have a firm grip on commodities. No matter. I called Hermes to help me, he's known at all the best nightspots, visits them regularly. He's supposed to stop by soon with information. I do love that boy; you did such a good making that one, Zeus. He and Persie are still as close as full siblings, just like the twins everyone thinks they are. And he always takes my pain away. The foot massages..." 

"Yeah... yeah, thanks, babe. Sounds great." Hermes was useful and efficient at his duties, but something about the boy disturbed his father deeply. Why couldn't he have been a bit more rough and tumble like Heracles? Now that kid... just like his old man, Zeus mused, settling into his dias again with a self-satisfied smile. Human mothers produced a better product. The little Persie and Hermes were always a bit on the delicate and flighty side, probably the product of too much immortal inbreeding. The Zeu Pater shook his head, sighing. 

_Something about a boy having facials and manicures just isn't right. Kid carries a murse, for me's sakes, embossed with cocks. Yeah, I don't need to consult a damn oracle to get that double entrendre... and all that running, no muscle mass to speak of. Does my own boy wax his chest?_

Z shuddered audibly and snatched a handful of Ambrosia-O's from a golden bowl proffered by an attending human, serenading his erstwhile ladylove with the sounds of chewing and mouth-breathing. 

Demeter ground her teeth and rubbed her temples. She was losing him. 

_Oh, how I do need a drink, _she grumbled to herself, pouring another glass of her favorite red. 

"Z! Hey! Attention: me? This could prove to be a huge problem. Do you want your grandchild born in the dark caverns of the Underworld?" 

The aging effect of a grandchild snatched Zeus' attention from the latest Pankration contests like Sappho at a Lesbos titty bar. He was suddenly Very Focused. 

"I'm not going to be a grandfather, D. I... Hell no. I'm young, I'm virile...." 

"You have teenagers, Z. Lots and lots of teenagers, and have you taken a look at the Abstinence Only literature they pass out in the biology and health classes? Do you even read the information packets the schools send you? Or look at all the report cards? I know you don't come to all the sporting events." Demeter felt her face flush hotter and hotter as her anger at ..DADS grew. "Damn, I forgot my blood pressure medication this morning. Hold on while I find my pill case." She tossed back her handful of medication and vitamins with another slug of red wine. "It's an inevitability, grandparenthood. You better get used to the concept." 

Zeus passed his hand over his face again and sighed. Why couldn't they all be like Athena? He had nothing but admiration for his quiet, dignified, chaste eldest daughter. He often looked back over his legion of offspring and realized they became more problematic the further removed from his care they were. Maybe he should round them all up and hand them over to Hera for a while. His wife certainly knew how to take the spark out of a room; maybe she could settle his wayward children down for once and for all. 

Suddenly he realized Demeter was still talking, and he had missed it. Heh. 

"As soon as I hear from Hermes, I'll call your office, and we can talk about this when you aren't so damn distracted." 

"No, no, no, don't call; come by, I'll buy you a drink. Please Demi, we need to plan this out, how to get her back and all. If she's as serious as she seems about Hades, Persephone is going to want to spend time with him on a regular basis. I'm sure he's crazy about her. He has to be; she looks just like you, babe, and as god- er, as I only know, you are irresistible." 

"I don't know, Z. Every time I go out with you, I end up back home with my panties in your pocket and my toga on backwards." 

"And your point is? If you wanted to, you could eliminate your dilemma by not wearing panties in the first place." Demeter felt her face flush again, this time the heat rushing from her cheeks to her kneecaps with some very delightful detours along the way. 

"Alright you old bull, nectar and strategy tomorrow at dusk. I'll meet you, d'you still run a tab at Two Writhing Serpents?" 

"I'll be there, babe, at our table with your favorite thunderbolt buckle in place... ready to be unbuckled." He grinned to himself at the promise of plowing Demeter's fertile fields. "Oh and, babe?" 

"Yeah?" she replied, crossing her legs involuntarily at the portentous tone in his deep voice, cursing her wayward hormones all the while. Immediately, she scrawled a note in her dayplanner to contact Hippocrates for a Nuvaring fitting. If she was going to get her O on, she wanted to make sure it was without offspring this time. 

"Leave the panties at home," Zeus growled. He shut his phone and settled back into the cushions of his dais with a self-satisfied smirk, tossing another handful of Ambrosia-O's into the air and catching them with practiced ease. 

"ZEEEEEEUUUUUUSSSSS!" 

He shot up, reaching for the nearest stack of prophecies from that youngster Apollo, quickly arranging the affect of a very busy and focused ruler. 

"Yes, Hera dear?" he called out to his wife, careful to modulate the volume of his voice. If he destroyed another temple with the sound of his voice there would be hell to pay. 

"Did I hear you eating on my new dais?" 

"No, dear." 

"If I find one crumb on those pillows you'll spend the next century at Dodona swatting at Dione's birds and wishing they got SportsCenter in that you-forsaken outpost!" 

Zeus' fiery azure eyes widened and he leapt to his feet, hurriedly shaking the remnants of his snack from the downy cushions. 

"You... quick-like. Get me a broom!!" he called, sotto voce, to one of his attendants.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – Happy Birthday April! **

**The Artemis Rose Blooms**

**by**

**RosaBella75 and Twiliteaddict**

I was bathing in a delightful little natural hot spring I had recently found deep in the lush forest one afternoon, reveling in the dappled sunlight filtering down through the canopy above me. I was quite pleased with the way the enormous trees screened my bathing spot from prying eyes. I wasn't known as the virgin goddess for nothing, and I most certainly was not about reveal my… charms to the casual observer despite my preference to bathe in all my nude golden glory.

The serenity of my relaxation was suddenly shattered when an oaf and his pals suddenly appeared, rudely invading my private time. To make matters even more infuriating, not only were they openly ogling me, but the leader of the pack of suicidal miscreants actually had the audacity to unfasten his britches as he approached, his apparent motive being to physically accost me!

Seeing his intent, I forced myself to wait just a moment before reacting, thus allowing the vile beast and his cohorts to draw just a bit closer, barely able to ignore their lewd gestures to one another. When they were in position to suit my purposes, I revealed my awareness of them. They secured their fate with they became even more brazen upon noting my displeasure.

Now enraged, I stood. Drawing on my power, I drew the water up to shield my nakedness from their view then flung a quantity of the water from my pool through the air, successfully landing at least a few drops onto each of them, and completely drenching the leader. I recognized him as a local Lordling, one with a long time reputation for taking intense enjoyment from making other creatures suffer. His favorite pastime was reputed to be savagely hunting both human and animal in the most cruel of ways, all the while thinking it a fine afternoon's sport.

This knowledge inspired me in crafting the wave of transformation I sent along with the water toward my would-be assailants. When the water surged over him, Royce was instantly transformed into large a Stag.

I couldn't help but smile when the water struck Royce's wicked companions. Particularly pleased with my impromptu plan, I delighted watching them become hounds… large, almost rabid hounds, in fact. The moment their scent struck the newly made Stag, he panicked, bounding wildly away through the scrub. Of course, his sudden movement and newly minted scent immediately triggered his former friend's fresh instincts to not only give chase, but to rend and tear their prey.

I did love the thrill of a good hunt. Something made me think Royce's opinion may have changed, though.

My smile took on a decidedly malicious twist when I heard the pack achieve a most grisly success. Their fate served them right for not only spying on me, but for attempting to steal my virtue by force. No male would ever experience my virtue, let alone steal it. No mortal man was worthy of me, and I had far too much work to do ensuring healthy deliveries of the worlds' babies to be concerned with mere men and their lustful desires.

~*~

Weeks later, I once again felt the need to treat myself to another relaxing bath in nature's splendor, in all my own natural glory. Being the Goddess of Childbirth was a very tiring job. I had more than earned the down time. I ventured to a beautiful little deserted island this time, where I could be certain of being undisturbed and safe from attempted molestation. The warm sand felt glorious between my toes as I dropped my silver bow and arrows at my feet and stripped down before walking into the caressing surge of the surf. Swimming out into the lagoon I noticed the mouth to a small river that looked enticing not far away.

Gliding through the water against the gentle current, I observed a particularly lovely set of waterfalls almost out of sight around a bend in the river. Suddenly the thought of water pounding down around me was too good an idea to resist. Pushing against the stronger current I swiftly swam upstream. When the surging water became inconvenient, I climbed upon the smooth rocks at the bank and picked my way over toward the tumbling crystalline water. The falling water sang a song of invitation I just couldn't resist.

Stepping into the cascade, I luxuriated in the cool stream blocking out the world as it flooded past me. Tipping my head back I gazed up at the sky, noticing the fluffy clouds dotting the deep azure above. They made the perfect backdrop for the lush forest above the upper rocks. This spot possessed the beauty worthy of a Goddess. I'd have to remember it. It was rapidly becoming my new favorite place to bathe, now that the secluded pool in the forest had been forever tainted by the man-beasts.

My eyes continued their perusal of the site, my mind beginning to toy with the idea of bringing a master painter to capture the scene for me, when I saw a flash of unexpected color and movement in the water on the other side of the crescent shaped series of falls. I gasped, instantly enraged. It was a man!

How dare he! This island was supposed to be deserted, for Zeus's sake! I felt my ire boil. He'd regret the day he ever set eyes on me!

Stepping forward out of the water I prepared to blast him into the next century when he turned slightly eyes tightly closed, the water pounding down on his skin just as it had been on mine just a few moments before only his hands were slowly wandering over the ripples of his torso, caressing the high hills and deep valleys of his muscular frame. But his hands weren't all that had captured my rapt attention. It was what was making itself most prominently apparent from between his thighs.

I blinked. Then blinked again.

I had never before had the slightest interest in the coupling of males and females, I was too busy with the after effects of such acts as well as thinning the ranks of the animal kingdom to keep the populations healthy. Suddenly I found myself wondering if I had perhaps overlooked the splendor of the perfect male until now.

I actually felt… _desire._

Mystified and more than a little curious, I climbed down the rocks, slipped across the river, and stealthily scaled the other side. He only got better on closer inspection. His dark, curly hair was streaked with golden highlights where the sun had bleached the color above his chiseled features, just begging to have my fingers in it. I could see, even as he was lost in thought, the suggestion of deep dimples below his rosy cheeks. He was tall, unusually so and would tower over even me, as statuesque as I was. His full lips called to me, red and moist, they begged to be tasted.

Shocked at the sudden turn of my thoughts, I paused. I had never allowed a man to touch me, aside from my brother, and he hardly counted. But even so, I usually beat him in wrestling, and had been quite content it would never change. Here I was after a moment's glimpse ready to forsake what had previously defined me. What in Athena's name was happening to me?

I stood there undecided if I truly wished to go forward for several long moments until his roaming hands glanced against his swollen member, eliciting a deep breathy moan from between his tantalizing lips. In that moment I understood why peeping on a beautiful naked form might be appealing, as a bolt of unfamiliar desire shot between my legs and clenched in the pit of my belly.

Quite without thought, I felt my thighs clench together as my hand pressed into the mound of golden curls between my legs to combat the sudden tight ache. I wanted him. I wanted to feel his lips pressed against mine, to feel his hands trail across the naked flesh of my back and more than anything I wanted him to open his eyes and claim me It was like he had cast an enchantment over me.

My mind was reeling from these wildly uncharacteristic thoughts. I was a Goddess! No mere male would ever be enough, and here I was considering it because I caught a glimpse of a cock? Well, a massive, near golden cock of perfection to be sure, but… what was I saying?!

Just then a masculine gasp pulled me from my mental musings. My eyes shot up to his face only to have what I found there leave me breathless and shaking. With my peripheral vision I took note of how he was now _fully_ erect.

Something I would usually find lewd was suddenly completely enticing. I wanted to feel it in my hand... I wanted to feel _him._

Not giving him a chance to say a word, I closed the distance between us, standing just shy of letting my chest touch his as I stared up at him.

"Kiss me, mortal."

His breath hitched, and taking a shaking breath he raised his hand to touch the golden tresses on my shoulder, gently caressing them before sinking his fingers into the hair at my temple and tilting my head slightly to the side. I stared transfixed at his lips as they moved toward me achingly slowly before finally pressing firmly against my own. I gasped in through my nose, shocked at the unexpected intensity. I could feel it all the way to my toes. Thought fled.

One overriding idea did remain in my head. _More._

I'm almost ashamed to admit, I attacked him. I climbed him like a tree, sunk my fingers firmly into his shining curls and threw every fiber of my being into kissing him… deeply. A good deal of time later, once I felt much more fully versed in the art of non-verbal communication, I could take it no longer and apparently neither could he.

Taking a more secure hold on my backside, my sexy stud clambered down the rocks to the grassy verge along the riverbank. Laying me gently in the grass he kneeled between my knees before uttering the first words I was to hear from his mouth.

"You truly are a Goddess in every way!" he whispered in a deeply erotic, husky voice before he fell to worshiping my body with his lips, tongue and gloriously warm hands.

When he had kissed every inch of my skin from the tips of my now completely curled toes to the top of my tingling head while exploring every dip and curve in between and winding me into one large ball of desire, he finally knelt before me again, this time to worship me… _deeply._ I screamed with pleasure when his talented tongue parted my nether lips, sweeping over my dew-drenched femininity making me instantly shake and writhe, feeling shattered to bits as numerous as the stars.

Smiling broadly at my wide-eyed, panting expression, he kissed his way back up my trembling torso dragging his turgid member up my thigh as he went, much to my moaning delight. Suddenly feeling breathless with anticipation, I squirmed… _squirmed! _

I felt his hand reach between us to grasp his significant length and slid it through my wetness causing me to jump as it slid over the straining engorgement hidden there before pausing at the entrance to the seat of my womanhood.

"Are you sure, my Goddess?"

"Don't anger me, mortal!"

His response was to thrust deeply into my core. My arms locked him against me, my heels digging tightly into his sculptured backside, desperate to get him even closer. He began rocking shallowly grinding his pelvis against my awakened nub, once again turning me into a trembling mess before he finally began moving in earnest. At some point I became aware of my loud and breathy exclamations, noises I would have scoffed at hearing from anyone else, but could find no restraint to do any different myself. His answering sounds were a symphony of stimulation to my senses.

All too soon, about an hour later by the sun, he was pumping wildly, slamming into me with my legs on his shoulders, my feet locked behind his head, when he unexpectedly reached between our straining flesh to pinch then press firmly against my sensitive nub in quick tight circles.

My whole body when rigid and I screamed my release, sending all the birds in the trees for leagues around into startled flight. I felt my inner muscles lock around him. He plunged deeply one last time before bellowing his own release, a sound which made me feel more powerful than any hunt and more touched by life than any birth.

I didn't know who this mortal was, but I knew he would never be doing this with anyone else ever again. And he would be pleasuring me again just as soon as I had eaten and rested. I would never scoff at Eros ever again!

"Mortal, what have you done to me?" I panted, a smile curving my lips.

"Only what you asked for my Goddess rose, but I must correct you, I fear. I am only half mortal,"

I was shocked to find I only had a small inclination to wipe the self-assured smirk from his face.

"Really. Then do please, enlighten me with your name, half-mortal."

"I am widely known as Hercules, though my friends call me Emmett."

"Emmett, you may call me as you have named me, Rose, though I am more widely known as Artemis."

His eyes widened briefly, before a pleased and amazed smile lit his face.

"I am truly honored, my Rose."

"As you should be, Emmett," I smiled back at him, lessening the arrogance of my words…somewhat.

He tipped his head forward once again tasting my lips. It could have been my own imagining, but knowing him to be no mere mortal seemed to make him taste that much sweeter. I deepened the kiss drawing his tongue fully into my mouth, reveling in the sensation of him twitching within me. Perhaps I wouldn't have to wait to sample more of my newfound pleasure after all. Heroes were by definition always at the ready, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N - April, you are the bright sunshiny spots of my day. Your humor uplifts and your talent astounds. I celebrate you and our friendship, for you are CHERISHED.**

**Thanks to Vi for your beta magic. You kept us all in line and inspired. Bless you.**

**Love's Absolution**

**by **

**RowanMoon**

The commune of Delphi slumbered soundly as the Apollonian Priest Aro stole across the dimly lit courtyard like a thief in the night. Crouching in the shadows he made his way to the Oracle's sleeping quarters. His greed in furthering his own political means had escalated to a point where he could not leave the poor virgin Alis any peace, waking her at all hours of the night, keeping her in a drug-induced stupor so she was forced to use her gifts to further his Machiavellian machinations. No Oracle, each also referred to as _The Pythoness, _before Alis was more accurate in her visions and proclamations, and Aro made it his mission to make sure they were used to his advantage.

Creeping past the dozing guards, Tzaspr and Emet, Aro pulled back the gauzy veils surrounding the Pythoness's bed. The young ebony haired woman was curled around the array of silken pillows, her waifish frame rising and falling with the mechanics of a body deep in slumber. He gathered her in his arms like a small child and carried her stealthily to the Chamber of Visions.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tzaspr opened one eye, his entire body tensing as he realized the creepy old bastard was up to it again. This had to stop, but the old priest was too powerful, too slippery to corner. Tzaspr had been the Oracle Alis's guard for a few months now, and was surprised at the murder that raged through his veins when he thought of that slimy son of a bitch taking advantage of his... _love. _He loved this woman. But it would never be. She was forbidden. An Oracle. In order for her to remain the Oracle, she needed to remain a virgin. She would not remain a virgin long if she was his.

He waited until Aro had made his way to the Chamber before he followed, pressing himself along the cave wall so as not to be seen. He needed to make sure she was safe... that he didn't overdose her. Again.

A few weeks ago the evil priest had given her too much of the opiates, and she had nearly died in the baths. Her attendant Rozali had slipped out with Emet for an intimate encounter, while the dazed and innured Alis was bathing in the sulphuric springs. When Tzaspr showed up after his rounds of the property, she was face down floating in the water like a drowned dryad. Her black hair was floating in serpentine strands, the only life evident in her motionless, prone form. Her skin, a white luminescent shell in the aquamarine blue haze of the water, made his breath hitch. She was beautiful even as she teetered on the edges of Oblivion. Tzaspr lept into the pool, the thick churns of water around his legs punctuating the agony of not being able to move swiftly through the shallow body of water to get to her sooner. His heart pounded in his throat as he pulled her to rock ledge of the grotto, his mind panicking that it was too late as he postitioned her airway to breath life into her body.

Sputters and shudders wracked her form as water spewed from her blue lips. Terrified eyes locked on his, softening with the realization she was saved.

"Tzaspr."

Her blessed, delicate voice uttering his name, the blackened hollows of her eyes showing trust and relief, snatched his cold warrior heart by the roots and tugged, leaving him breathless and staggered.

He removed his cloak to wrap around her as she coughed and shivered against him. Anger welled hot and furious at the way this innocent angelic creature was treated. She was a gift, a direct conduit to the Gods themselves, yet she was being used as nothing more than a tool. Treated as a non-entity.

This was a woman who deserved to be worshipped. Not enslaved and drugged.

He needed to get her away from this place.

*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

"_I need to get away from this place"_ was her first thought when Alis found herself sitting on the tripod seat, staring into the navel, the _omphalos _of the earth. Peering into the swirling noxious fumes that existed deep within the bowels of the cavern, Alis cleared her mind to prepare for the onslaught the visions brought unto her. There were times the gases below were red and angry, their messages landing with a venomous bite to her mind, weakening her will and strength to keep from going insane. Nearly all of the Pythonesses before her went mad. Walking the tightrope of Time can weaken the mind's sense of reality. _Are we but shadows on the wall Plato proposed. Or will propose. I can' remember which. Does it matter? _

Fear threatened her again and she exhaled slowly, snaking a quick glance to the rock ledge below, where Aro awaited her proclamations with an eager quill. The madness in his eyes was resolute and a chill went through her spine. He gained from her the knowledge of where new civilizations would be built, what wars would be won and how. Powerful information to ransom to men of power and wealth. She shut out the images of her Keeper with visions of her Protector, her love, Tzaspr.

She pictured Tzaspr as Apollo, about to slay the demon serpent Python on this very spot, eons ago. Lunging and bobbing with the hellish creature, the young beautiful god slew the beast, throwing it down the fissure that led to the center of the earth. It is said the gases the Pythoness inhaled which swirled in irridescent multicolored mists were emitted from Python's eternally decomposing body at the bottom of the world.

Her stomach lurched and she tried not to vomit the partially digested remains of her supper into the sacred site. Recovering quickly she caught a glimpse of Tzaspr crouching along the walls of the cave. She gave herself over to the vision, knowing Apollo would protect her on the Astral plane while Tzaspr protected her on the Corporeal.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tzaspr was unable to stomach his love and adulation in the sway of forced prophecy. Sneaking back to his post he was relieved and dismayed to see Emet had not stirred. Slipping beside him, he feigned sleep when he heard the approaching footsteps of Aro carrying Alis.

After listening to the rustle of silk as the spider placed the fly back into her nest, Tzaspr gathered his strength to stay put until the fiend had disappeared into the blackness of night. With nary a sound, he stole into the sleeping quarters of the fragile Pythoness, biting back the urge to wrap his body around her to protect and shelter her in the most possessive way possible. He knelt beside her in reverence. He burned with the need to take this woman as his, but felt too unworthy to do so. She was a blessed virgin. The Oracle. She was sacred.

He breathed in her scent of cinnamon and cloves, vanilla notes rising as he inched closer to her skin, unable to resist. Concentrating on keeping his eyes from rolling into the back of his head, he peered intently into hers when, to the surprise of them both, they fluttered open.

The mercurial haze of green and gold in his eyes was at first startled, then concern deepened them as she observed him silently. _He is so close. Tzaspr is here. I am safe. _She sighed deeply and reached for him, brushing a limp finger gently across his strong jawline.

"My protector. My love."

Her light touch, coupled with whispered sacred oaths of love sparked and kindled Tzaspr's body into a flaming fury of need. As her fingers traced feathery trails along the battle scars slicing across the skin of his forearms and chest, he barely managed to suppress a light shiver. Sinking down into her soft nest of brightly colored pillows she smiled lazily as she wrapped warm languid arms around his back. She simply melted into him becoming liquid need, a flash flood of drowning desire rushed over his skin as he nuzzled and nipped the delicate aromatic skin at her neck.

"I knew you would come to me eventually," Alis sighed as she nuzzled into his love bites. This portent of their joining was not a vision, but a knowing she felt within her body. She felt it that day he pulled her from the water, saving her from drowning. He made her feel life again. _Hope_. There was a powerful hum in the air when this man was near her. She would not forsake him in this moment of lust and need, she would join in gladly; losing then finding herself in his touch. How she had longed for his touch.

His weight pushed against her, insistant, rippling with urgency to be near her, to cover her, pull her close. Tzaspr wanted to touch every inch of her skin with his hands, his lips, his tongue. Pulling the tender lobe of her ear gently between his teeth he whispered huskily,

"Come away with me."

"Yes," she whispered back. Threading her hands into his curly blonde locks, she found his lips and kissed him deeply, sealing their bond. She would leave this place with him. Be his. Bear his children. Live a life she never thought possible for her. A tear of happiness trickled down her cheek, he wiped it away with a calloused thumb.

"Are you sure?" his voice held concern yet his eyes were full of hope and need for her to come with him.

"I have uttered thousands of prophecies. Words I feel in my very bones to be true. Kings have lost and won continents over the visions I am given by Apollo. I have never been more sure of something in all my life. I belong with you."

Crushing her to him, his heart soared with happiness never known to him before this moment. He covered her in kisses, her body warm and pliant beneath him.

"Take me, Tzaspr. I want be relieved of my maidenhead before I go with you. If I am no longer a virgin, I am no longer Apollo's vessel. I will be free, leaving it all behind me."

Pain flashed across his eyes for a brief moment as he realized the severity of the gift she was giving to him. Gathering Alis in his strong arms, he sighed across her heated skin,

"As you wish."

His fingers trembled as he caressed her. His nerves threatened to overtake him rendering him unable to perform. He desperately wanted this moment to be perfect. Painless for her. She reached for him, wrapped her fingers around his and brought them to her silken sex.

"It's as it should be. I know you will not harm me."

With a groan he slid a finger slowly into her. She gasped and writhed beneath him, rocking her hips to encourage his infiltration of her body. Pumping in and out of her with deliciously slow careful thrusts, he increased to two fingers and curled inwards. A violent turn of her head as she bit down on a pillow to stifle her screams of ecstasy made him feel a throb of satisfaction deep in his gut knowing he had brought her over the edge.

Tzaspr insinuated his thick muscular thigh between her legs to spread her wider and settled over Alis's body, careful to keep his weight off her. The strength and heat of this large muscle between her legs made Alis flush with flame pulsing from her center. Their hearts pounded in their chest as the length of his hard sex pushed against her. Every cell in their bodies screamed to be joined. Pressed together in the love bond of male and female. Knife and Cup. Earth and Sky. God and Goddess.

Sliding ever so gently into her wet tight embrace, Tzaspr sobbed with the relief and splendor of his body joined to hers. Deepening his drive into her soft body she pulled him tightly against her and breathed against his chest,

"Beautiful."

Pushing until he reached her barrier, he increased the pressure until her bonds were broken. A sharp ache of pain blossomed then morphed into pleasure as she focused on him moaning his devotion and revelry of her flesh. She blissfully gave in to the rhythmic increase in urgency of his thrust. A tidal wave of euphoria washed over her body as he brought her again to climax, their bodies gliding and sliding against each other in a primal dance. His hips jerked eratically against her as he came, plunging her depths to the hilt, he wanted to lose himself in her, in this perfect moment of love and fulfillment.

Withdrawing carefully from her he rolled over to the side, positioning himself snugly against her spent body. Against his better judgement, knowing they should flee before they were caught, he allowed them an hour to bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking. He assured her he would protect her and show her a beautiful life.

Before the fingers of dawn breaking crept across the floor of her quarters, they were gone, the empty space they left behind filled with the howling rage of Aro. 

~Fin~


End file.
